Hunger comes back like a dagger
on face. With iris and fingerprints...

Creeping in waking night
was fear of fear...

It was a failed attempt
to employ the eternity...

That fleeting incandescence
was branded witch...

I don't fake the pain
pain was me...

A fake sanity with its wisdom
enlarges the space between the coarse...

Prisoner of praise
was slave of anger...

While writing a poem
I make a blood hole...

In troubled times
he just walked away...

They felled a huge tree.
Some Druid feared that it had an afterlife...

Into the dark enters the blue;
a homeless song punctures the cloud...

Shared my solitude, gave me comfort,
the road, my prelude to a long journey...